Red Star Rising
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: "Better red than dead." That was a saying that had a place in the history of Orange Star. Still, with Black Hole invading, it didn't have much relevance. If you were dead, you tended to be red - that was the colour of blood after all.


**Red Star Rising**

Frankly, Corporal Wright thought that Master Sergeant Duran was a bit insane.

Which was fine, in theory. Joining the Orange Star Army generally required you to be at least a bit insane, considering that you were signing up for 90% boredom, 10% terror. After all, this was Wars World, and centuries had proven that it was a world that lived up to its namesake. Until a few years ago, if you did sign up for the Army, chances were you'd be stationed at the southern border, where at best you'd get frostbite, and at worst, you'd be killed in one of the border's constant skirmishes between Blue Moon and Orange Star. When she'd been transferred from the border to Fort Barnes, she'd expected something approaching an easy life. Even in the conflict that had gripped the world's four major nations a few years back, she'd been kept on home soil, away from the fighting.

But then last week, things had changed. They'd changed so much that she'd been put under the command of Duran – someone who'd fought and killed at the border. Someone who'd been alive when "the damn Reds" had tried to pull a coup in Orange Star. "Commie bastards" who'd wanted the country's flag to change from orange, and to change the country as well. He'd fought them on the beaches, fought them in the cities, fought them all the way to their last stronghold. He hadn't been the one to coin the phrase "better dead than red," but he'd followed it to a T. It was why he'd actually requested to be stationed on the border with Blue Moon, because he was among those who were certain that the Reds had the Blues' backing. An assertion that Blue Moon had constantly denied, but as Duran had said in one of his many rambles, "Blues and Reds always lie."

She'd have found it a bit funny if not for her current condition. Where she was questioning whether it was better to be dead or red. Because being dead tended to mean you were red, as in, you were shot, or blown apart, or shot _and _blown apart, or killed in any other number of delightful ways. Hill 23 was drenched in the stuff, blood and bodies both. So far, their CO hadn't given the order to retreat. So far, Master Sergeant Duran was walking up and down the line, yelling things that might have been appropriate 27 years ago, but were now so poorly matched for the situation she was left to wonder why the troops hadn't mutinied. Maybe in the ranks of the insane, the most insane among them led the way.

Least he hadn't lost an eye yet. Least she hadn't.

"Hold the line! They may take our lives, but they will never take our land!"

_If they take all our lives, they'll certainly be able to take the hill, _Wright reflected. Nevertheless, she kept down in her foxhole, and guided Private Jones's hands in firing the heavy machine gun they'd set up.

"Damn dirty Reds! Back! Back to your Godless lands!"

_God, if you exist, can you make him shut up?_

No answer. Only more bombs, more bullets, more bodies being hit by them.

The enemy weren't the Reds, despite what Duran might claim. Or, if they were, they'd disguised themselves pretty well, because the enemy weren't wearing red. They were wearing a combination of black and greys. The Reds, if they were still around according to Duran, had apparently taken control of the Black Hole nation, and had come back with a vengeance to Orange Star. Maybe that theory fit into Duran's philosophy, but Occam's Razor dictated that the simplest explanation was the correct one. And that explanation was that Black Hole was invading Orange Star, and that Orange Star was barely holding on. Because most certainly Hill 23 was.

"Right, fifteen degrees," Wright said, guiding Jones's hands. He pulled the trigger.

"Left, thirty-four degrees."

The same thing happened. More Black Hole troopers fell. Many more came after them.

She'd heard rumours about the one leading the invading army – that he was a brute, that he was as thick as a boulder, and that his strategy had so far consisted of overwhelming Orange Star's lines through weight of numbers. As of the last two hours, Wright hadn't seen much to counter that assertion, because indeed, the Black Hole forces kept coming, and the husks of those they'd felled stood in silent monument to Black Hole's power. She could see burnt out recon vehicles, tanks, APCs, IFVs…She could see them, and their brothers still advancing on the hill, all coming from the same direction. There was an alienness to them, she reflected, as she saw yet another Black Hole tank burst into flames. She'd never seen any Black Hole soldier climb out of them, so it was possible they were fully automated. It might explain why the Black Hole CO was so willing to just throw them at Orange Star's steadily crumbling defences. Because even with their own tanks, even with a line of artillery two klicks behind the hill, it was like tossing pebbles into a river in the hope of damming it.

But the enemy was still human, or some approximation thereof. The Black Hole troopers were trying to advance up the hill as well. Their faces were completely concealed by bubble-shaped helmets. Their bodies were clad in jet black fatigues. They were wearing something more durable than the body armour given to Orange Star soldiers, but they could still be killed – there were enough of their bodies on the slopes to remind Wright of that.

"Right, sixty-three degrees."

Jones fired. More Black Hole troopers were either shot, or dived for cover behind one of their many ruined vehicles.

"Right, twenty-one degrees."

More bullets. More bodies.

"Left. Set bearing to…the hell?"

She froze up. By all rights Jones should have asked her for a target bearing. But he was silent as well. Because he was seeing the same sight she was, and as far as she was concerned, he was quite entitled to.

The Black Hole forces had been emerging from a tree line at the northern base of the hill. It had been able to hide their numbers, not to mention it was another line of cover for their own artillery line. So when the things emerged, Wright wasn't surprised that she hadn't seen them up until now. What did surprise her was the nature of the things themselves.

"The fuck are they?" Jones whispered.

She bit her lip. They looked like tanks – tanks with a circular chassis mounted on four legs with wheels. At the end of the chassis was a short cannon. So, tanks, yes. But not ones the Orange Star forces had seen before, or rather, ones that she hadn't seen before.

The tanks fired. Wright yelled. A foxhole on the left flank went up in dirt, wood, and blood.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

The tanks fired again. And again. And again. The Black Hole forces began to increase their advance.

She saw Duran shouting something. She couldn't hear what. His bravado didn't save him though, as he fell down, dead.

"Shit!"

Jones tapped her shoulder, and she followed his finger. On the hill's right flank was a group of medium tanks – behemoths that had proven to be a match for even Black Hole's most powerful armour. She watched them roll to a halt. She watched them train their cannons on the advancing circular tanks. She saw more and more Black Hole forces get more and more close, but that didn't matter now. The tanks did.

They fired. She covered her ears, such was the roar of their cannons. She popped down in the foxhole, before poking her head back up. Trained it to the northwest. To the tanks the Orange Star armour had fired upon.

"Oh come on," she whispered.

The medium tanks had done damage. One of the Black Hole tanks had collapsed, and the others were covered in scorch marks. The Orange Star armour had hit its target, but the damage had been negligible. And worse, the Black Hole tanks were pivoting to the medium tanks.

"Move," she whispered. "Move!"

The medium tanks began backing up the hill. The Black Hole tanks opened fire.

It wasn't pretty. Two tanks detonated. A third ground to a halt and burst into flames. Its gunner was firing wildly before he was taken out by a bullet, his blood splattering on the tank's flag. Still blowing in the wind, its orange now caked with blood.

"Corporal!"

She somehow heard the voice after all that. The explosions, the screams, the sound of Jones cursing. She looked around.

"Corporal, radio!"

She found it in one of the foxholes further back from the frontline. A trooper was waving at her, a portable radio in his hand.

"Shit," she whispered. She looked at Jones. "Jones, keep firing."

"At what?!"

"At everything!" She grabbed her rifle, peaked her head up, and looked at Jones. He gave her a nod, and began to fire. She got up and, keeping as low as she could, began to run.

"Shit…damn…fuck….bastards…"

Swearing made it easier, even if it cut into her breath. She needed something to cope with the shells raining down on the hill. Even if she slid into the rear foxhole unharmed, she knew that other soldiers weren't as lucky.

"The hell is this?!" she yelled.

The private handed her the radio. She pressed her ear to the receiver.

"Retreat…group at…line Hotel…fall…fall back…"

"Say again?"

"Retreat. All Orange Star forces retreat. Regroup at Point Hotel."

"Sir. Yes sir…"

She lowered the radio and pulled out a flare. Lighting it, a purple light shone over the hill top. If she yelled "retreat," no-one would hear her. But even with their backs turned, they'd see it sooner or later. Hopefully sooner.

She didn't need to question why she'd been called here. Duran was dead. Lieutenant Dominic had been killed hours ago. She was highest in the chain of command here.

The troopers began running. What was left of their armour began to reverse, lobbing shells over the hill in a vain attempt to hit the Black Hole forces. If they were hitting anything, she couldn't say.

"Come on, come on," she whispered.

The dust was making it hard to see. She was able to see Jones though, climbing out of the foxhole with the machine gun in hand. He saw her, ran to her, fell towards her as he stumbled.

"Shit!"

She got out without thinking, despite the cries of the private next to her.

"Come on Jones!"

He looked too shocked to complain. He just extended his arms and allowed her to pull him across the ground.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!"

The shells were lessening now – maybe her swearing had gone beyond keeping her sane. At the least, it allowed her to glance at the burning medium tank. The Orange Star banner, still fluttering in the wind, caked in the blood of one of the nation's children…

"Shit!"

It was Jones who exclaimed it this time. Jones, who pried free his right arm and began firing his pistol. Black Hole soldiers had crested the hill. His one-handed firing wasn't hitting anything, but it at least gave them pause. Enough to allow Wright to keep dragging him south. Back down the hill. Back down to Orange Star lines.

Back to inglorious defeat.

* * *

Seven hours later, it was sunset. She'd been put under the command of a Sergeant Reed. Reinforcements had come, along with a new CO, one that excelled in head-on assaults apparently. Which was good, because at 0530 tomorrow, the Orange Star forces here were going to retake Hill 23. There were rumours that his artillery left something to be desired, but Wright knew it didn't matter. Ten hours from now, she'd be sent back into the meat grinder. What happened next really wasn't up to her.

She sat there, in the foxhole, in silence with her new squad mates. Looking up at the hill. Knowing that the Black Hole forces were fortifying it. Their CO might be an ape, but even apes could count. Or in this case, appreciate the need to not indefinitely advance. Squinting through the gloom, she picked out some field binoculars. Looking for the tank she'd seen destroyed earlier. For the banner of her country.

She couldn't see it. Chances were it had been taken down. Tossed aside, put in the dirt. That in of itself didn't make her angry – people could burn or tarnish the flag as much as they wanted – but it was a reminder. A reminder that it wasn't a case of being red, or being dead. That in this world, being one often meant being both. That in the war facing them, ideology was not the point of conflict here.

It was survival itself.

She supposed she just had to fight, and wonder how much mercy survival gave her.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, yes, the whole "Orange Star should be Red Star" joke is pretty low hanging fruit, and the out of universe explanation is exactly what you think it is, but...meh._

_Also, serious question, has Black Hole ever been explained in terms of what they actually are? Sturm's outright stated to be an alien, but all the Black Hole COs are human, yet their infantry appears to be alien, so...yeah._


End file.
